Being Contrary
by ynabolic
Summary: This is where Mary decided to go back to Scotland even before her wedding to Francis. What if the only way King Henry can ensure her loyalty would be to send Sebastian as well?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Reign.**

**Being Contrary**

A/N: This is after Mary's confrontation with Francis on the 'Olivia' situation and after the Bash/Mary kiss. This is a hard BashxMary fiction... just because I love them hehehehe. Okay, this is fiction, so some things might not be accurate but please bear with it or just don't read it :)

A/N: I just noticed it but most of my fanfics were missing a word or two. I'm using a different app when writing and whenever I export it as 'docx' it seems okay but when I transfer it to this platform, it always drops something :( will have to double double check then

**Chapter 1**

Mary has always scoffed at gossips of royal extra-marital affairs. She didn't know why people in power insisted on doing it. Why risk your reputation and security of your lineage for a tumble?

It seemed... no, it _was_ pointless and stupid.

Yet, even as she thought this, Mary could see Kenna giving the King a deliberate once-over (meant to entice) and King Henry likewise returning the lascivious gaze. In front of the whole court. Queen Catherine didn't bat an eyelash nor did his longtime mistress, Diane.

She guessed that King Henry's proclivity was a common enough occurrence that no one paid it heed despite the blatant display.

Mary tightened her hold on the goblet and felt her abstemious appetite dwindle further. The succulent mutton sliced thinly and glazed with peach sauce tasted overly dry now despite its appearance.

Similar to this court with its velvet pillows, silk hangings, and fashionably dressed guests milling about. A gorgeous setup meant to entice but once you've tried it; you realize that it was hiding an ugly reality.

And to Mary, it was truly ugly. Any form of politics was ugly to her and Royal politics was at the pinnacle of it. Growing up cloistered in a nunnery made her both vulnerable and pollyannish to the point of being called 'the child queen,' behind her back. Yet, she also believed that her somewhat blind optimism was her saving grace.

At first, Mary almost blamed the nuns for not educating her properly of the norms in court but as a week went past, followed by another; she realized that her views were rose-tinted, true, but it also allowed her to be more perceptive. Her musings were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Mary, may I have this dance?" She could count with one hand the people that address her as simply 'Mary.' And true enough, the Dauphine of France was currently bowing to her with an extended hand.

She accepted.

During the first few steps, Mary's gaze was firmly locked with Francis.' And since both of them were adept enough at dancing; they need not glance down to see whether their steps were correct nor do they need to be aware of their direction. After all, they were royalty. Which means that others would have to be aware of their position and take care not to cross paths with the royal couple.

"How has your first month fared, your grace?" He asked cheekily. A playful glint in those blue eyes. A stray curly lock falling down to give him a boyish look.

"Eventful and enough to make up for all those years in isolation, I'm afraid. I am half convinced that all that has happened is still a dream or a nightmare. Depending on the hour the event has happened." True, her first months in the castle has been nothing but stressful. From Francis' initial indifference, Catherine's unusual and instantaneous dislike of her, and King Henry's manipulations.

Mary was not stupid. It was obvious that the King wanted Scotland without the attached conditions, meaning without his heir marrying their queen. He also wanted it without engaging England. More horrifyingly were rumors of his desire to also claim said country (England). A claim that would only be valid if Queen Mary I of England would meet an untimely demise. An event that was becoming more and more possible given news from their emissary.

But Mary did not want it. Scotland was enough. Anything more would be greed.

If there was something she was grateful to the nuns for, it was their belief-a belief that they've pounded into her-that living excessively was not living wisely.

These gowns, an occasional feast of celebration, horses, carriages, were insignificant compared to a safe home. It's been so long since she's felt safe.

"You seem a mile away; have I bored you, Mary?" Francis inquired, a bit put off with her wandering attention. How convenient for men that women were not allowed the same privilege.

"Oh, forgive me, I was simply reminded of something..." Francis spun her again. Mary learned to give less and less specifics. It was more advisable to be vague. Especially in a place where ears were always alert to any news that would incriminate.

"I know, this ball isn't really my number one form of enjoyment but it gives the nobles something to busy themselves about instead of plotting against each other"

In the back of her brain, Mary wondered exactly what type of enjoyment Francis prefers... quick relations in the boudoir no doubt. With Olivia, no doubt. Their recent argument on the matter has proven how much Francis values their hard-gained exclusivity. She heard enough from her ladies about his recent tryst with Olivia. The sad part was that she expected it of him already.

But Mary had to rid herself of these thoughts; this was not the right place. Francis has many good attributes. The dauphine fought for her and fought with his father to keep Scotland safe and he kept her from marrying that tyrannical bastard from Spain. Mary could not ask for more at this point or any point, she was quickly learning.

Yet, even as she thought this, Mary saw Francis' gaze stray an instant to something behind her.

Her head pounded.

She wanted to retire early to her rooms in that instant. Her grimace must have caught Francis' eye because he halted a step and stirred her back to her ladies: the Four Mary's less one.

One last bow and he was off.

Mary didn't need to look back to know that he was now asking another lady to dance. The lady that his gaze drifted to as he was dancing with his intended.

She knew it was too much to ask for wholehearted devotion especially from a King. Francis was kind and that was already something that most royalties lack. But Mary still dreamed of a person that would put her first as illogical as that was.

"Your Grace, are you alright?" Lola stood up and grabbed her hand. Greer joined her. Their eyes looking alarmed and concerned.

"Yes however, I believe the festivities will have to end for me here. It seems the ale I drank was too much on an empty stomach" She tried to smile but it came of strained with pain.

"Do you want me to fetch Nostradamus?" Aylee was already turning towards the door when she stopped her.

"No need. Some sleep would suffice"

"Then, at least, let us escort you back to your chambers"

Their exit were noted by many but the flowing drink dulled their usual speculation.

* * *

"I never realized how dank this castle is during dark, why, the corridors are almost swallowing the rest of the walkway" Greer teased but her voice cracked somewhat nervously.

The way back did seem ominous. Candlelights banked both sides but that only made the shadows darker.

"No worries, soldiers should be around every corner here" Aylee responded confidently but deflated when after three turns, no soldier seemed about.

"This _is_ unusual. A soldier is often scattered in tens or 20's near royal chambers. We must alert the King of this or Francis"

Mary's headaches seemed to double with each step. When she stumbled, all her ladies gasped in alarm.

"Mary! Oh my- we're getting Nostradamus!" Aylee stated, already turning around and heading back.

"I do not like this, your Grace" Lola muttered under her breath. Beside her, Greer was also nodding in apprehension. They were nearing Mary's chambers but the shadows seemed deeper and somewhat hostile.

Mary shook her head, trying to clear the haze she's under.

"Greer, can you go back and ask for an escort? Tell them that no soldier seem to be around." Mary held Lola's hand tightly. Clenching her teeth at the pain she's experiencing. It was like a hammer was consistently banging inside her head.

Greer hastily turned about and ran back to the party.

_What was happening?_

She hardly ate anything and that excuse about the ale was simply that; an excuse.

"Lola, let's continue... my headache has increased" Even as Mary said it, she was assaulted with another painful hit. A wave of nausea went through her. "Quickly!" she groaned.

Both of them hurried their steps, hoping that whoever Greer gets would be quick.

No one stopped them in the corridor. Much to both their relief. Yet, when they crossed the threshold of Mary's bedroom; the door suddenly shut loudly. Enough to alarm both women. Making Lola and Mary whirl around in surprise.

Both of them gasped.

Lola more so. Mary almost collapsed with the pain. The room was spinning around now and even as her head lolled, Mary could see a shadow detach itself from beside the fireplace.

It was a man. And not just an ordinary one. This man had something glinting in his hand. He had raggedy clothes that were patched roughly with mismatched textile and his boots were caked with mud.

She heard Lola scream for help even as her friend bravely shielded Mary from the obvious assassin. The man batted Lola away like a fly. Swatting her flailing arms and grabbing her arm roughly. He threw Lola towards the side where her head made a sickening sound as it hit the cabinet.

Mary wanted to get up and go to her but the pain was crippling.

A deep raspy voice rumbled "You ain't supposed to outlive the p'ison (poison), Little Queenie. But don't you worry non. I'll make it quick. By the by, your cussin (cousin) sends his regards... heh" The knife, as she now saw clearly, was poised above his head. A move that's clearly meant to strike.

Mary closed her eyes. Wishing that Lola and all her ladies were unharmed when the door banged open. The man above her was distracted for a fraction and Mary, gaining some time threw herself on the floor, narrowly missing the downstroke stab.

From her vantage point on the ground, she saw a dark-haired man grab her assailant by the head and twist.

Her last memory were of glowing eyes looking down at her. And she knew. Mary whispered weakly before passing out, "Bash"

* * *

"I don't get what the hell happened!" someone was screaming, which woke Mary up. "Where were the soldiers?!" The man's voice was hoarse but spoke with authority.

King Henry.

Mary would have been furious as well if this happened under her household. The fact that the incident happened to royalty gave it more weight. She groaned and someone was quick to assist her to a sitting position.

"Wha- what happened?" She asked groggily. Mary was squinting and trying to make out the people surrounding her. There was someone sitting beside her bed. A curly haired man. Francis. From the corner, she saw a familiar dark shadow; leaning back with his arms crossed. Imitating a relaxed pose but Mary knew that he was capable of being fast if needed. Sebastian.

In front of the fireplace, she saw King Henry pacing like a caged lion and gesticulating wildly.

"That's what I want to know!" King Henry continued to rant. She almost shushed him because it was simply aggravating her headache.

"Ugh, let me up a bit."

"Are you feeling alright, your Grace?" She turned sharply and regretted it instantly as she felt bile rise up again. Mary shook her head and Nostradamus, the one who inquired, produced a bucket readily.

She guessed that he was used to it.

As Mary emptied what little she consumed during dinnertime, she was barraged with shouts like, 'Are you alright, Mary?' (Francis) 'Your Grace, are you still unwell? (Nostradamus), _obviously, I am NOT well_, Mary wanted to roll her eyes at the two but even the effort to do that was too much for her at the moment.

"Your grace, please drink this. It will sooth your throat and have been divesting the toxins from your body"

"What do you mean?" She whispered weakly.

"Your stomach had to be pumped since the poison has spread rapidly. It was uh a foreign plant" At this, Nostradamus also looked at King Henry.

"What do you mean foreign?" Henry hissed, striding angrily to tower over Nostradamus crouched form.

"I mean, your majesty,that the plant used to make this poison was not from around here"

"You mean, it's not from France?" was the immediate demand. "Damn those Englishmen!"

Nostradamus was quick to add, "Yes. But such a plant could only be found in cold places, particularly, in the Highlands" The healer's worried gaze went back to her.

"You mean her own countrymen tried to murder their own queen?" Henry was almost about to explode with fury. "And they wanted it done under my house!?"

Francis was quiet but Sebastian straightened and walked calmly to stand behind the King, "Father, that does not explain how an assassin was able to get in the royal wing nor would it explain why the guards during that night were all absent"

It was a good point. Such an attempt would not have been possible without the cooperation from someone inside the castle grounds.

"We will question everyone! from the kitchen staff to the head of the guards, anyone that reeks of betrayal will be put to death without trial!" At the last shout, several soldiers stood straighter and swallowed. King Henry stormed out of her chambers.

Mary almost felt sympathetic towards them until she remembered that they were all equally responsible in this assassination attempt.

* * *

"How are you, Mary?" Francis asked for the hundredth time.

"I am fine now, Francis. Please do not bother yourself... it has been two days since. You should be back in court" She requested almost pleadingly. Her fiancé's hovering almost drove her to actually run out. It was almost suffocating but nonetheless, appreciated. He kissed her cheek before leaving.

As the door closed behind him, Mary sighed in relief.

"Dare I say that such an expression is one of immense relief?" The voice she's heard nightly guessed cheekily. Sebastian has been keeping guard on nights since the incident. Saying that he didn't trust any of the guards, "Mainly because the queen employs almost all the staff. I'm not that quick in courtly matters, but it doesn't take a genius to figure that the nothing happens around here without the Queen Catherine's consent" He muttered one night as he carved a small block of wood. It was during the third night that he kept watch. Bash always takes the secret passageway and would often stay near the fireplace, whittling at a block of wood until it has taken shape.

One such design was now adorning atop her fireplace; it was Sterling resting on his front legs and sleeping. She was astonished when he presented it to her because the likeness was astounding. When he placed it at the center of the console, he suggested quite plainly that a watchdog, any watchdog was always better than none.

She took it literally and since then, Mary has decided to keep Sterling inside her bedchambers.

"And what are you still doing here, Bash? Those people are not stupid enough to attempt another killing so close since the last..."

"That's exactly how they could be thinking right now." Bash warned, leaning close to her bead, "Remember, if you were to die abruptly, Father would most likely than not stop all investigation and just tell Scotland that your assassination was instigated by your own people"

Mary thought about it more before sighing. "I still cannot believe that my people would attempt to kill me."

"Not your people, Mary. This is not done by your country. More likely than not, this was just a small faction that wants to usurp your throne"

"Still...it is disheartening that hostilities are also present in my home"

Sebastian looked unsure before saying softly, "They've been without you for a long time, Mary"

"My cousin wants me dead"

"You're the only one barring his ascent to the throne."

"He was not just a relative, Bash, he was my friend. We played together and now he is plotting my death" She looked up helplessly.

"Betrayal will always be painful; more so coming from your kin"

The silence that followed was expected.

* * *

"I am going back to Scotland." Mary announced in front of the court, standing stiffly with her back straight. Determination apparent in her dark eyes. It has been two weeks since the incident and after much consideration, she has decided that this course of action would be most beneficial for her and her people.

From his throne, King Henry surged up in indignation while Queen Catherine almost clapped in glee. This couple was the most polar opposite people yet seeming carved from the same coin: in other words, they were the weirdest combination that she's ever encountered.

Mary was half convinced that Francis will be showing signs of dementia before reaching his 30's with the way his parents were going at each other.

"Why would you decide that now!?" Henry shouted. Francis flinched in the background while she felt more than saw, Sebastian coming closer behind her.

"This recent move has proved that I've been too long away from my homeland.I can do no good staying here and letting the nobles tear Scotland apart. I have to return"

Francis decided to join in. "If you do that, you might get assassinated! Stay here where it's safe and you're protected"

Mary raised an eyebrow, "Protected from who?"

Francis clamped up after. He knew as well as anybody else that Scottish assassins were the least of her problems coming in France. And frankly speaking, Mary would rather face a knife pointed in front of her than something from behind her.

"That's besides the point, the arrangement between France and Scotland is still not established solidly"

"That was not my decision, your Majesty, if you would recall, I have asked numerous times for a wedding date. There was never a follow up from you nor your son"

King Henry scowled, "It was never the right time!, if you would allow, return in three months and we could discuss your nuptials further"

"No. My stay here has been long enough. And my experience of haste in courtly matters has been disappointing. I need to head back to Scotland"

"If you do this now, then France will not assist Scotland should the Englishmen attack! We won't even send 10 soldiers nor provisions of any kind to aid your country!"

"And you truly believe that this will stop me? You have never aided nor assisted Scotland since I've stepped foot in this country. I have risked my life and those of my friends for an audience with your Highness. The dauphine of France continues to ignore the arrangement and has often enough forgotten the engagement, at his convenience" In the corner of her eye, she saw Francis flinching again and scowling fiercely at her.

Mary knew that she was being unfair to Francis. The two of them were supposed to be a couple now. Yet, bitterness still marred her thoughts of him. Something that won't dissipate even with his constant reassurances especially given his recent transgressions with his old flame.

Meanwhile, her ladies smiled in encouragement, which was all she truly needed. It was time to go home now. "Scotland is vulnerable as it is now. However, bear in mind that England would not stop at Scotland. It will march to France soon after. The only barrier holding the English back is my country's temptation. Remove that, and France will soon be next."

"This is unheard of! What will stop me from forcibly keeping you here for your own protection?!"

"You would not dare. King Henry, lest you forget, I am a Queen and the contract between Scotland and France will only be in effect _if_ I marry Francis. And even then, France will have no hold over me." By this time, King Henry was already red in the face with spittle showering all over the court.

Mary knew that she was saying goodbye to more than just an alliance.

"So you will not honor the-"

"Give me the date of the wedding ceremony and I will be there. Until then, I am of no use to my country staying here. It is clear these last few months that my presence will not necessarily assist my country during times of distress... till marriage plans has been finalized, I may only be reached in Scotland through correspondence. I have my own country to run." Her look brooked no argument. Mary will not stand by anymore. Parties and curtsying along with veiled threats has given her a taste of politics. And if this was similar to what is happening in Scotland then she needed to be there.

France has had too tight a hold on Scotland. They were cornered by England and held hostage by France. All the while, her people were suffering being torn by different factions caused by religion and politics.

"I cannot tolerate this! How do I know that you won't be dealing with England behind our backs?!"

"Then, assign me a guardian, a spy, someone to keep tabs on me. Make sure that I am not being too friendly to the other side. Give me your most trusted subject. Give me Sebastian."

Gasps broke out among the nobles in attendance. Mary even saw Diane's eyes widening a fraction and she was almost sure that her mouth curved upwards a tad bit.

"He is my son. What assurances can you give me that he won't be harmed by your people?"

"I will swear an oath that I will personally ensure Sebastian's safety. And frequent correspondence will likewise ensure that he is being treated well"

King Henry dropped back heavily onto his throne. His eyes were wild. He shook his head and lifted his hand, "Give me tonight to decide"

"There's nothing to decide, your majesty. I am merely here as a courtesy and to say goodbye. We leave at first light on the morrow. Goodnight." And before King Henry could shout again, Mary has already turned her back on him with her ladies flanking both sides.

Before she could step out of the throne room, she was heartened to actually see Queen Catherine regarding her in a different light. Her eyes tinged with admiration and almost camaraderie for rendering the King of France speechless at his own court.

When she stepped out, she distinctly heard several glasses breaking from within the room.

* * *

Dawn was just breaking as she was heading towards the carriages with their luggages stored securely. She was surprised, however, to see Nostradamus. His hunched form eerily reminiscent of a gargoyle, will always send a shiver of fear down her spine. The presence of the seer does not bode well for her journey.

He was clutching his usual medicinal pouch with eyes darting every which way, not focusing on any person in particular. Mary decided to ignore him.

However, as she passed by, she heard him whispering, "Queen Mary, once you step out of France, I may no longer see your path." She paused and looked up at him warily, he was quick to supplement his statement "However, rest assured, that the history that you are about to change was not one you will regret. Please be mindful of King's bastards for they are the one thing clear in every vision of the future."

It was as clear as Nostradamus could be. At this point, Mary was unsure whether he was referring to Bash or Elizabeth of England. Either way, she already knew to be wary of both... for different reasons.

"Thank you" She whispered just as inconspicuously.

Nostradamus bowed before retreating back to the shadows and behind Queen Catherine.

As she stepped into the carriage, she looked one last time at the French court and saw them lining down once again, now to bid her farewell.

It was not a teary goodbye, she has not made friends here (maybe Clarissa) except for those she will be bring home with her as well. Nonetheless, she was grateful to them for showing her the viciousness of court life.

For that alone, she smiled almost sadly at everyone and waved languidly. At King Henry whose visage never changed from irritated. Francis, her first love, whose face remained boyish and still immature but eager to do many many things, she hoped that he will have the chance to do so. Diane, the King's mistress has just finished hugging her only son. Mary is grateful to her the most for entrusting her one comfort to a foreign royalty.

Mary knew that it will be more difficult now for the woman without her only confidant.

Closing the carriage door firmly, she gestured to the attendant to move the escorts forward.

She heard the horses hooves in front of her beginning their march as well as the flags being raised. Her chest tightened a tad bit at the familiar flag of Scotland. It has been so long since she's seen the royal coat of arms billowing in the wind.

It made her decision to leave all the more justified.

Her flag does not need a companion. Scotland will stand on its own feet again. And if that was the only thing she could accomplish as Queen then she will do so with pride.

Besides, she was not alone in this endeavor. The influence of her ladies' families were well-known and even now, as she pulled the curtains closed, she saw Sebastian winking at her and galloping on ahead.

Not alone indeed.

* * *

**End of Chapter 1**

A/N: Weirdly enough, I didn't envision this fanfic to be anything but romantic... now it seems that it's going to be longer than I planned...


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Reign**

A/N: Thank you google maps, it's been a great help when I was writing this chapter.

**Chapter 2**

Mary knew the exact moment that they crossed to Scotland. Because the air didn't feel stifled anymore. And the men outside could be heard sighing in relief and one particular scotsman even started whistling a Scottish folk tune.

The ship trip was tumultuous at best and all her men were tense, thinking that France might curtail their transit or worse, Englishmen could also attack them in the middle of the sea. So it was not one would call a pleasant voyage.

She parted the curtains and breathed deep. Scotland was as lush as she remembered it. The green grass was almost difficult to stare at; so vibrant were the colors that France's own well-tended and manicured gardens almost seemed faded in comparison.

Lush, rough Scotland. Like their queen, it needed polishing.

"Guid Morning, Yer Grace!" a familiar voice in a different accent cheerfully greeted. Mary turned her head sharply and saw Bash stirring his horse towards her carriage.

"What?" She asked, stifling a laugh.

"Whit's new?"

"What are you doing, Bash?" Mary asked raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"Just practicing some Scottish phrases. The men" he tilted his head towards the Scottish escorts "were kind enough to help me in blending in with the locals by teaching me how to 'properly' pronounce certain phrases. Gaelic, unfortunately, is beyond my tongue or patience"

"It is a beautiful language. I know that French is known to be the language of love but I have always preferred my native tongue to it"

"Another motivation" he teased, a common enough occurrence throughout the trip that most of the men ignored it "Are you fluent in it, Your Grace?"

She replied in a string of gaelic that had the men behind Bash guffawing.

"I still don't have a gist of what you said however, from the reactions of the soldiers, I believe that it was at my expense" Bash smiled at her, showing that he was not offended in the least.

She smiled back, "You should give it another try Bash. After all, you will be staying in this country for a while"

"Or until your wedding?" the mood dimmed a tad bit with that question.

"Oh, I don't know about that..." she replied softly.

His head whipped up in surprise and Mary simply smiled mysteriously before drawing the curtains closed again.

* * *

The land trip was grueling and unlike France, majority of the roads in Scotland were rougher so the carriage felt like it was being thrown every which way. Twice now, Mary got sprawled off the seat when the wheels hit a particularly large rock. At one time, she almost asked one of the retainers to send her a horse, then and there preferring to ride even bareback if needed.

By late morning, Mary was ready to ask for some ice to tend to her bruised bottom. They decided to dock the ship at Bo'ness (I'm not sure if it was called that before) to avoid any 'unwanted' surprises. From what Mary gleaned, Englishmen and Frenchmen were not her only enemies. She only hoped that the politicians in this side of the sea will prove to be less tenacious. Another player the likes of Queen Catherine was bound to entangle her in another distorted web.

They decided to stay at an inn near Grangemouth road on their way to Holyroodhouse palace. The inn itself was a quaint two-storey lodge that seemed inviting with orange light coming from inside.

The owner and his family were outside to greet them. He was a stout man with shockingly red hair, thick eyebrows, and an even bushier beard. His daughter and son who looked to be of ten years age, also curtsied clumsily... charming the young queen more.

"Ye 'ighness!" He kept bowing low to Mary when he saw her step out. She pushed the hood back to better see them and vice versa. She could feel Bash coming up behind her should there be any unwanted attacks.

The family gaped at seeing their queen in the flesh for the first time. The adorable daughter tugged on her mother's apron and whispered reverently in Scottish gaelic, "Caileag bhrèagha" (beautiful).

Mary smiled before bending down and replying in a similar language that the little girl and her mother was infinitely more beautiful than she. The mother beamed thankfully while the husband puffed his chest in pride before ushering the royal party inside.

The inside of the tavern reflected the hospitality that the family displayed. Wooden chairs and tables were roughly cut but that only added to the rustic charm of the inn. Each corner had a small vase of wild flowers that could be picked on the side road. Adding charm without needing to spend overly on the cost of transporting it from some other country.

Again, she marveled at how different it was from France.

Mary ordered a simple stew; the hot texture of it burned down to warm her insides and it was delicious. Her ladies likewise did the same while the men decided to eat a full Scottish breakfast composed of kippers, bacon, shortbread, sausage, eggs, and even some tattie scones for good measure. From the side, she saw Bash looking astonished at the portions.

Nonetheless, he tucked in with gusto and was only a tad bit intimidated by the black pudding. But if there was one thing she liked about the Dauphine's bastard brother, it was the fact that he never discriminated. Sebastian tried every dish with equal fervor and enthusiasm.

From beside her, Lola whispered, "Your stare gives you away, Mary"

She turned her attention back to her ladies and was surprised to see them all looking at her curiously with knowing smiles in their faces. Even Kenna, who has been pouting throughout the sea trip has noticed, quipping, "Well, I told you before, the man is gorgeous, who wouldn't be mesmerized?"

At that, all four ladies and their young queen turned to study the bastard son's countenance.

Despite Bash's want to blend in with the other men, he still stood painfully out. His back was a tad bit straighter than the rest of the eating soldiers and the way he held his utensils and forked the meat betrays his upbringing, which was every bit a reflection of proper mannerisms inculcated from an early age.

Furthermore, Bash was also taller than some of them and leaner. Again, suggesting a life of leisure and full meals rather than hardship.

But nothing gives Sebastian away more than his eyes. Surrounded by thicker-than-necessary dark brown lashes, his eyes were ever changing depending on his mood. From darkish grey when angry to the lightest of green when happy.

Those eyes of his now seemed eerie in the dark background and much too intelligent to belong to a commoner.

As if sensing their gaze,Bash returned their inquisitive stares with one of his own; a smoldering one. Only breaking the hot-tense atmosphere when he wiggled his eyebrows abruptly and quirked it suggestively, causing the five young women to burst out laughing.

"I am telling you, if he was titled,I'd have snatched that man a long time ago" Greer offered jokingly, fanning herself with her other ladies giggled.

Kenna leaned in to gossip, "Well then, you'd better hold your breath. I've been hearing from Henry that he was actually thinking of granting Sebastian a title. Since the King can't really legitimize him, he's thinking of meeting halfway especially now that all the bastard sons of Kings across Europe are getting legitimized by the Pope"

"What title is he considering?" Aylee asked excitedly.

Kenna looked to the sides as if afraid that someone would overhear, then whispered much to the anticipation of Mary and her ladies, "Dukedom"

The collective gasp of delight and shock was expected. Kenna leaned back smugly.

"That is meeting halfway indeed! The only way that Bash could be King is if all King Henry's sons and their descendants die. In so doing, the next in line would be the Dukes" Lola wondered out loud.

True, Mary considered, princesses around the world were now marrying Dukes instead of Kings to secure their position more. Since princelings had a habit of monopolizing power, majority of female monarchs are finding highly titled nobles to be more accommodating.

In hindsight, it was fitting since Sebastian already had Henry's blood: the blood of a monarch, so it shouldn't be that hard for the rest of the nobility to accept it. Mary was also pretty sure that Diane was now doing everything in her power to make this possible for her only son. And Catherine will at least be more self-assured that Bash will not usurp the throne while her sons lived by demanding legitimacy.

"However, if that does happen. It will still be an uphill battle for Bash" Mary murmured, looking again at the bastard son who was now trying to jokingly snatch the last piece of kippers from the hands of the soldiers. She wondered now whether she preferred the light hearted but un-titled Bash to one bogged down with responsibilities. With those eyes of his turning to an ever stormy grey and never reverting back to that light green that they found so refreshing.

But just like everything else concerning the bastard son, Mary was conflicted.

* * *

"Your Grace, we will stop at Linlithgow Palace first before continuing. The weather is unpredictable and the roads could be dangerous for the party." The captain of the guards announced.

"Of course, Captain, the cold and the rough roads are also taking a toll on everyone. A secure and warm bed is very much welcomed at this point"

"I will send a messenger ahead to ready accommodations, your grace" Sir Alec bowed before leaving. Scottish ways were different. Conversations between classes were less stiff compared to France.

They were now on their way to another palace closer and one that Mary actually liked. Linlithgow was not as majestic or intimidating as Holyroodhouse. It was away from the capital but Mary was born in Linlithgow and she always felt assured whenever she passed by the building.

Mary leaned back and stared up at the carriage ceiling, contemplating her next move. With each mile covered, the enormity of the task before her seemed to loom larger. By removing the regent, her mother, from seat, several nobles are bound to try and seek favor with the queen. And her mother will not take it kindly that her daughter snatched the power from her hands against her will.

But this needs to be done.

Scotland as it is now is very vulnerable to attacks as evidenced in the English soldiers camping out at the border. At present, however, she needed to quell the friction between the protestants and Catholics. The biggest contestation among her constituents.

Mary briefly wondered why there exists friction in the first place especially when both sides (religion) preached free will; of allowing a person their own choice. Why then the need to slander or ostracize a person that believes otherwise?

Growing up in a convent, Mary knew that the sisters never turned their backs to anyone, be it pagan, protestant, or some other obscure belief. The nunnery always opened their doors to those in need and allowed sanctuary for those in pain and danger. At the perils of their own lives. Why then the need for massacres? and outcry? among the factions. As if mistreatment was excused by the very religion that taught otherwise.

If Mary were to investigate further, she was pretty sure that this was simply a ploy by the nobles to further frustrate her mother and the ever growing french presence in the main palace. Although, she'd also be the first to admit that her mother wasn't that tolerant of other beliefs than her own.

So as the light outside subsided and darkness engulfed the confines of the carriage, the young queen's mind was likewise busy in developing ways to resolve the tension. She'd first have to invite both leader parties to a conference and after reaching a compromise, she'd turn to the Highlands. The lowlands were more like the court in France with Burgesses and rich merchants but the Highlands were rumored to be different. Highlands were about small kingdoms ruled by strong lairds.

Mary rubbed her forehead worriedly, she would have to convince them that without a united front, no Scot will rule any land in the end. They were all residing in one country whether they like it or not.

A royalty's might was only as strong as the men she commands and right now, Scotland's royalty was not commanding anyone. The Regent's authority was not acknowledged by those in the Highlands while the aldermen were scornful of the ever growing french presence in court. The merchants were taking advantage of the lack of power and is ever growing their influence by the attractiveness of coin. All the while, it was the lesser landholders and laborers that suffer.

The problems of the court were so simple if they didn't taint it with backdoor scheming and corrupt practices.

But Mary knew that such was the game played in this field. And she would be sure to stand victorious in the end. After all, it has always been an uphill battle for the monarchs... France was simply a preview, the real ordeals will only be starting once she steps foot in the main city.

* * *

**End of Chapter 2**


End file.
